


Moths and Butterflies

by DisgruntledPelican



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: David Rose deserves love, David Rose is a Good Person, Insects as metaphors, Introspection, Introspection and Metaphors, M/M, No details of non-consensual activities, POV David Rose, Passing reference to non-consensual activities, so much introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisgruntledPelican/pseuds/DisgruntledPelican
Summary: Maybe David's fear of moths and butterflies has more to do with emotions than it does with actual insects?
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 46
Kudos: 98





	Moths and Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> I know they say that all fic is self-indulgent… but this really feels like some extreme version of that to me. 
> 
> This story has lived in my head for over a year. I started writing it many months ago, and then had to put it away. I wasn’t sure if and when I would ever want to come back to finish it. And even if I did finish, I honestly wasn’t sure if I would post it. This work is deeply personal to me, and I just wasn't sure if I would ever be ready to share it.
> 
> But, here we are. And I couldn’t be more excited to share this with all of you wonderful people. 
> 
> I want to thank RhetoricalQuestions and ElsewhereFumbling for brainstorming and working with me when I started this. You both helped me to set the foundation, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
> 
> I also want to thank NeelyO for SO MUCH. I don’t even know where to start. Friendship, love, patience… to name a few. But specifically for this fic, the encouragement to continue, the heroes work with the beta, and the love and care that you put into this story that you knew meant so much to me. Thank you for understanding why I needed to go at my own pace with this. Love you, friend.

Toronto

David Rose has a lot of feelings. He has always been this way. He can’t remember a time when he didn’t feel big and scary emotions caused by the big and scary world around him. The first person to talk with David about his feelings was Adelina. David remembers the night distinctly - it was Christmas. Having reached the ripe young age of ten years, he was now old enough to attend the family's extravagant party for the first time, wearing the new suit his dad had bought him. The Rose Family mansion would soon be filled with hundreds of guests, and a young, dapper David was feeling big and scary emotions.

When he’d come to Adelina clutching at his stomach, she looked at him fondly and said, “Oh my dear boy, you have butterflies in your tummy. You must be so excited to be with your parents on Christmas Eve.” But the feeling that David had wasn’t a good one, and they certainly weren’t butterflies. No, this feeling wasn’t colorful or purposeful. It didn’t float through fields and land on delicate flowers. This feeling was uncalculated and nonsensical, leaving behind dust in its path that lingered long after. The insect fluttering around in his 10-year-old belly must have been moths—those dusty, dreadful creatures.

David’s childhood years, while different than many, or... most children, were filled with both butterflies and moths. He felt the butterflies most powerfully, fluttering around when he would walk through the oversized kitchen doors and immediately be struck by the smell of Adelina’s home cooking. She knew the way to his heart—she’d single-handedly paved the way—and that path was lined with paella, enchilada de pollo and, for dessert, dulche de leche.

He felt butterflies in the form of watching his mother’s team of designers collaborate on her wardrobe, eventually assisting her in creating intriguing and buzzworthy looks that were sure to garner the attention of the paparazzi, her peers, and those around her who were much more powerful. 

He felt butterflies the first time he saw Carmen, a beautiful girl in his class. He continued to feel them each time she passed him and he could catch a waft of her feminine scent. Then, he felt them when he first laid eyes on Andrew. David was 15 at the time, and was beginning to realize that the girls in his classes weren’t the only ones who would catch his eye from time to time. At first, he didn’t understand what was happening… _Why would looking at this random boy cause these intense feelings?_ But then he noticed Andrew’s eyes, beautifully brown and sharp around the edges; he noticed Andrew’s mouth and how it changed shapes when he observed the world around him. _This must be a crush…_ and oh man, those pesky butterflies went into overdrive at that realization.

Unfortunately, the years were also peppered with those damn, miserable moths. Each time Alexis went off on one of her international escapades, with questionable men or irresponsibly wealthy friends, David knew that the moths would invade him until he was able to extract her from whatever international crisis she inevitably found herself in. David knew that it wouldn’t take long for Alexis to stumble into the wrong crowd, completely unaware of the dangers of each situation until mere moments before she found her way (or David created a way) to safety.

  
  


********************

New York

At 21, David moved to New York, aspiring to make it big in the art world. As the years progressed, a moderately happy childhood morphed into feelings of anxiety, and the moths were much more active than any of the butterflies. David learned a lot during his time in New York about the winged emotions that swooped in and out of his system. 

He learned that butterflies were few and far between. He learned that no matter how often the butterflies were replaced by moths, he would mistakenly trust the butterflies in the beginning. He learned that the dust that the moths left in their wake would linger, manifesting in short term discomfort in the form of expensive tabs for people mostly unknown, non-consensual activities leading to physical pain and unwanted marks on the skin he took such good care of, and in the form of lonely nights spent with groups of people, or mornings after that were awkward and sometimes cruel.

Most importantly, he learned through experience in this absurd and amazing city how to keep the moths at bay, and he got pretty damned good at it. It was the reason he was high as often as possible, and got drunk on nights out (or mornings in) with—could he call them friends? And it was why he didn’t turn down an opportunity to fuck. No matter the setting and the participants, David knew that if he was being fucked or fucking someone else, the moths would stay away. 

But they didn’t go far. They lingered, waiting until he was coherent enough to feel them. And then they were back with a vengeance until the next time he was high, drunk, or fucking. 

When Sebastien sauntered into David’s life, the butterflies that ensued overwhelmed his senses. David was enamored with this confident, ethereal man who, for some reason, wanted to be with _him_. Sebastien wanted to be with David in so, so many ways. He wanted David at the parties he attended, wanted David in his bed, wanted David featured in his photography, and he wanted to do business with David’s gallery. If the butterflies swooping and twisting in his gut had known what that despicable man had really been up to… they would have moved aside and let the moths give David some kind… any kind… of warning. 

Those damned moths. 

  
  


********************

Schitt’s Creek

The move to Schitt’s Creek was an electric shot to David’s system, a direct hit, bolt of lightning to his core. It wasn’t until several years later that he could even recall, in any amount of sordid detail, the first several months spent there. He knew some things to be fundamentally true about those first months, though. 

He knew that he liked Stevie—her dry wit a perfect match for his. She’d call him on his bullshit when necessary— and when completely unnecessary, because she was also an asshole. But he liked her for it all. He knew he liked that he was always aware of where his sister was, and he was pretty sure that Schitt’s Creek wouldn’t offer up any sultans or secret police for Alexis to piss off. He knew that he didn’t miss the drugs at all. If he was truth telling, David hated the effect that drugs had on him in New York. 

Sure, it took some time for his body to adjust to the lack of added illegal supplements coursing through his veins, but he liked the effect it had on his physical appearance. He could see his face filling out, he required less moisturizer as his skin didn’t dry out as easily, blemishes healed faster. He noticed his complexion evened out. He still didn’t love gazing at himself in the mirror… but he no longer despised the image looking back at him.

The more time David spent in Schitts Creek, the more his winged emotions leveled out. He didn’t really feel the butterflies or the moths with much ferocity. Sure… they casually came and went as events played out in his life. He felt an influx of moths after making the decision to steal Roland’s truck—or maybe it was the realization that he’d lost his _only friend._ But when he worked things out with Stevie, the moths fluttered away and left little dust in their wake. His friendship with Stevie continued to grow, though neither would ever admit to it. 

When Jake strolled into David (and Stevie’s) life, he waited impatiently for either insect to show up. He couldn’t really understand how he’d felt virtually nothing when Jake was around. It wasn’t a bad feeling… it just wasn’t really _any_ feeling. At least not until one single moth showed up and joined them at the diner. 

_What the actual fuck… a throuple?_

David couldn’t decide if he was anxious about this or if he wanted to laugh out loud. Luckily, he and Stevie ended up pleasantly high and laughing far too loudly at the whole situation. 

********************

Moths… butterflies… moths…. Butterflies.... Fucking moths…. Damn butterflies. David’s mind couldn’t decide what he was feeling. One day, he would wake up and remember what that $40,000 check felt like in his hands and he would be overwhelmed with butterflies. This was an opportunity unlike anything he had ever dreamed since the government (very rudely) seized his family’s assets and all his belongings some years ago. He had an idea, and he thought it was a good one. Even Stevie thought it was a good one…

And then the next morning he would wake up to an influx of moths reminding him that he’d never truly done anything on his own. He’d always had a safety net, and apparently, he’d always had parents buying his success. 

_How am I supposed to know if I can do this? I’ve never done anything on my own…_

David was truly growing weary with the flip-flops happening on a daily—sometimes hourly—basis. One minute, he would be enthusiastic about sharing his ideas with Stevie, Twyla, Alexis… anyone who would listen long enough (so barely Alexis). The next… he found himself seeking the comfort of his bed, lying alone in total darkness. Seemingly immobilized by the fear of failure that would take over when the moths decided it was their turn to torment him. He would count the seconds, minutes, hours—just waiting for these fears to work their way through his system once again. 

David discovered that the moments when he did his best work were when the butterflies were around. He could imagine what he wanted from his store. He could picture the sand and stone aesthetic, the clean line of products with labels all facing the same direction, grouped together based on functionality. He could picture it all so clearly, could practically smell it all coming together inside his newly leased, empty, dusty building. David just didn’t know what came next. 

Oh the butterflies. So. Many. Butterflies. He didn’t even know his body could house so many. But, apparently, business men in mid-range-denim with small smiles, kind eyes, and cheeky tongues were the keepers of David's butterflies. Or maybe it's just this one business man? Maybe it’s just the business? 

It’s definitely not _just_ the business.

Or maybe it’s because the universe hates him, and was setting him up for Sebastien Fucking Raine to saunter back into his life.

Even after Sebastian left, and the moths had passed through, he could sense their presence. He knew the dust they left would linger. But, for the first time, he also knew that he’d had control in that situation. He knew that fucking Sebastian was a choice that he made. Sure, if his mother hadn’t put them in that god-awful situation, he wouldn’t have had to make the choice. But, nonetheless, it was a choice he made.

The dust did linger. Some butterflies returned. Setting up products in the store brought some back, working with Patrick brought some more back, and planning the soft launch had brought some back. 

The soft launch was not soft. At all. It was hard—so to speak. 

By the end of the night, after the very hard but successful launch, and after a long, warm hug (the longest, warmest hug anyone had given David without attempting to undress or defraud him) he felt the remnants of the dust leave him. Finally. Finally, he was rid of the situation that had reminded him more of New York than anything else since moving here. Finally, he felt ready to stake his claim outside of the city. Make his mark in this small town, with kind people—who hugged when they were happy, and made baked goods, and turned soft launches with “friends and family” into town-wide events.

David thought that spending his days working with Patrick had filled him to the brim with butterflies. Even when his family forgot his birthday, spending the day at work in the presence of his business partner had kept the moths at bay. 

He didn’t realize, couldn’t have fathomed in his wildest dreams, the infestation of butterflies that would take his breath away when they kissed on his birthday. He didn’t realize that the butterflies would fill every crease and crevice of his entire being the moment his fingers wrapped around Patrick’s neck, when his fingertips felt Patrick’s nerve endings spike, and as his lips pressed against Patrick’s in the simplest, most earth-shattering first kiss of his life. 

They fluttered about in his head, making him want and want and want, more and more and more of Patrick. With each new kiss, and each new declaration, David felt as if they would… never leave. They took over his arms and hands as he flailed, informing Patrick, his boyfriend, that toilet plungers were even more incorrect than socked feet and mountaineering boots. They took over his feet and legs and worked to hold him up as his boyfriend serenaded him in their store, in front of the town, and in front his mother. 

Their presence became a constant. A constant that never lost its effect. Not one bit. To the contrary, actually. David had never felt such consistent presence from either of his winged emotions. 

Consistent.

Consistent. Even when David was hurting, feeling betrayed, and lied to. Even when he felt moths creeping in following the presence of a pretty, petite redhead. The moths came. He felt them, he felt the pain and fear. He felt the sadness. 

But, the butterflies stayed. They didn’t swoop or make their presence overtly known. They made space for the moths, but they stood their ground. They allowed David to feel the pain with the absence of despair. They allowed him to feel hurt, but to also know that the happiness was real. He discovered that both emotions could exist in tandem.

And the moths were fleeting, inpermanent. They were just passing through, as if to just spend some time reminding David that the butterflies were worth fighting for.

And fight for them he did… a little too late, but nonetheless he fought in the form of a ridiculously uncoordinated dance while his boyfriend sat and stared and drank him in.

********************

It was a casual morning, a pretty standard Schitt’s Creek kind of morning. Alexis had annoyed him into doing a menial task for her. She called it a “favor” and he’s pretty sure he didn’t really have a choice in the matter. 

As they always did, the butterflies came alive as soon as he walked into the Apothecary and laid eyes on Patrick. They didn’t bring the all consuming feeling that he’d felt in the beginning—but he wasn’t waiting for their departure like he’d used to when he’d feel them hanging on for any extended amount of time. They were… part of him now. Companionable. 

And on this average morning, in the middle of their store, as his consistent butterflies were fluttering freely as they always did, and his hands were flailing as he complained about Alexis… Patrick said those words. Those three, beautiful words that David just knew would send another shock through his system. 

He braced himself.

The shock didn’t happen immediately. 

He was sure that once he left the store and could properly process _what just happened_ he would feel a new infestation. 

It didn’t come.

But he felt… something. Something was definitely happening. Deep in his bones, from fingertip to heartbeat to the soles of his feet—he could feel it. He’d felt this before. He’d felt this feeling—only a couple times—but he’d certainly felt it.

Once in a barn, and once at a concert. 

And now—he felt it as he approached their business, following a conversation with Ted that was less about his sister, and more about himself. 

He didn’t need _new_ butterflies to infiltrate his system to make him realize he loved Patrick Brewer. He had loved him for months—not yet ready to proclaim it, but showing it in his own ways. 

And oh, Patrick had his own ways, too. 

David realized that the butterflies didn’t come hurtling in at the proclamation because they had been slowly filling his system with each passing day that Patrick showed him his love, and with each moment that David allowed himself to feel it. 

And now, they were thrashing themselves against every extremity he had, as if wanting—needing—to burst through and share themselves with the man he loved. 

And so, David shared.

And when he told Patrick that he loved him, David could tell by the glow of Patrick’s face, the crease in the corner of his eyes, and the calming of the butterfly wings in the depths of his soul, that he’d found his happiness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for indulging me in this story. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I am on Twitter as @Disgruntled_AF if you want to connect <3


End file.
